


Discussions on Feelings and Families

by robolife



Category: BomBARDed (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Randy isn't a very good tactile comforter but by god will he try for his friend, couch cuddling, spoilers for Raz'ul specific things from ep 55
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:27:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24692254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robolife/pseuds/robolife
Summary: Raz'ul asks advice on how Randy managed to leave his family so easily in light of his recent reveal.
Relationships: Randy Greentrees & Raz'ul Daz'ulson, can be read as pre-Randy/Raz'ul
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	Discussions on Feelings and Families

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be more relationship skewed but when I got to the end it just didn't feel right to go down that route. Anyways, here's something that I might follow up on later.

Randy and Raz’ul were sat on the couch in the shared part of their dorm, a companionable silence spread between them, when he felt the subtle shift in the air that meant Raz’ul was gearing himself up to ask a question. It was easy to tell, after so long spent travelling and existing together- he’d been quietly strumming on Usumptin, but he’d stopped to undo and redo a braid in his beard, changed to the quiet breathing exercises he did when he was thinking too hard about something. Randy just waited it out, knowing Raz’ul would speak in his own time, continuing to mindlessly shuffle and spread out and reshuffle his deck of cards. Eventually, when he was ready, Raz’ul spoke.

“Hey, Randy?” 

Of course he would start with that, looking for permission. Randy hadn’t met many princes but he was sure his friend was the most polite one out there, and the most caring. He hummed in response, letting his fingers still and turning to look Raz’ul in the eyes, waiting.

“How… how did you do it?” There’s a beat of silence, but Randy is content to let his friend go at his own pace, “How did you just… leave them, and not go back?”

Randy wasn’t sure if he meant the three halflings in the Hemp Hills or the Nowhere Man, but something in his gut that wasn’t a hitchhiking litch told him it didn’t really matter. He thought back to the conversation they’d all had earlier, before taking the Wing Challenge. He turned so more of his body was facing Raz’ul, 

“They didn’t want me,” he said simply, as if he were commenting on the weather. Raz’ul flinched, and Randy couldn’t tell if he’d said the wrong thing or not.

“But- what about when we went back, when you saw them again?” Oh, so he was focusing on that now, made sense, “Why didn’t you try to change their minds?”

Randy turned back to his cards and picked them up, shuffling them endlessly because he knew he couldn’t give Raz’ul the truth if he met his eyes- it was a sad truth, and it always felt like he was hurting someone when he told those.

“Because they were right- we were strangers, and I would put them in danger-”

“But you could have given it back- we would have understood, they’re you’re family-”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

Raz’ul’s jaw snapped shut audibly when Randy cut him off, voice quiet but tone firm, “They were my family,” he corrected gently, turning back to Raz’ul, fingers stilling in their movement, “They were my family until they weren’t, and maybe they could be again, but for now they aren’t.” At that Raz’ul made a small, confused sound, emotions too present in his eyes for Randy to decipher- that’s what happened when you were raised by a cult of thieves, you got good at reading small emotions but ended up lost in the big ones. Randy scooted closer to his friend on the couch so their knees were touching, not knowing how to be tactile further than that.

“They’re still your family, Randy,” Raz’ul tried, looking lost. Randy shook his head, reaching to grab the cards again, shuffling them in the air, the  _ schik schik schik  _ of them moving against each other making beats in the silence while Randy found words that would work. 

“I don’t think family is about blood,” he started, shaking his head when he saw Raz’ul start to interrupt, “I know you get what it means to have a chosen family, but I don’t think there’s any other kind.”

“Then why would you leave them gifts? Why would you go back to save them?” Raz’ul asked, no malice or accusation in his voice, and Randy would never be able to express how grateful he was for someone who just wanted to  _ understand _ something like that about him, without judging him to hell and back for it, because if anyone deserved righteous judgement it was Randy. 

“The first eight years of my life,” Randy started after a minute of silence, voice doing its best to hide the hurt he felt when he dug past the skeletons in that particular closet, “they- they were really good,” he gave half a laugh through the words, “I don’t really remember them anymore, not in any detail, but… they were full of love,” he settled, focusing back on Raz’ul, “and that’s the only reason that I’m not a Nowhere Man right now.” He ignored Raz’ul’s flinch at the implication, continuing with his point so his friend didn’t dwell on all the different  _ might have beens _ that were out there, “So part of me still loves them back because of it, but that doesn’t mean we’re family anymore, not in the way that really matters. We’re just strangers that love the memories of each other.”

Randy had been focusing on a few bits of hair escaping from his friend’s bun instead of his eyes, and as the silence stretched he forced his gaze back down. He probably shouldn’t be as surprised at the tears shimmering at the corners of Raz’ul’s eyes as he was.

“That’s,” he started, voice tight from keeping the emotions in him from flooding out. Randy reached over and grabbed one of his hands on impulse, braving the unfamiliar waters for the sake of comforting the dwarf in front of him, “that’s so  _ sad _ , Randy.” Randy laughed a little, but didn’t miss the way Raz’ul practically clung to his hand, so he didn’t say anything yet. But Raz’ul couldn’t seem to decide on what else to say, despite a few false starts. When he reached up to angrily press the heel of his free hand against his eye Randy spoke again.

“My life hasn’t been that happy, Raz,” he said it gently, a reassurance despite the words, “but it’s okay.”

“No, no,” Raz’ul shook his head, “It  _ isn’t _ ,” his breath hitched, “And I just don’t  _ get it _ ,” he took a deep breath and his hand went down so he could look Randy in the eyes, “I don’t get how you can go through all that and just… say goodbye like that, because then what does that say about me?” 

Ah, there it was, the last piece Randy needed to get whatever big picture was working in the back of his friend’s brain. Even he had to admit there was a sort of cosmic humor behind the similarities- both separated from their birth parents for reasons bigger than themselves, both stealing instruments and leaving as their first true act of independence, both running from a past keen to catch up. But there were differences too, of course; Raz’ul’s wound was more raw, and there had been no pretenses where Randy was concerned. He had known what he was taken from, he remembered it; it was just that the Nowhere Man didn’t care about his comfort, and Daz’ul and the rest of Raz’ul’s family at Mount Tain did. And Raz’ul hadn’t been stolen, either- he had been given- though Randy was a little unclear on if that was completely voluntary on his birth parents’ part or not. But he knew what Raz’ul meant when he asked his question. 

If Randy could remember a place full of love and not have any strong feelings about staying there, then what did it mean for Raz’ul to so strongly reject- at least for the time being- a home that loved him and that he loved back at the discovery of people who were his family and at the same time were complete strangers to him? 

Randy put the cards down fully and grabbed Raz’ul’s other hand to bring his attention back to the present, deliberately maintaining the eye contact and looking into that gaze full to bursting with emotions, “The Nowhere Man isn’t my family, but for a while it was- it was a fucked up one, it wasn't a good one, but that’s what it was- and they stopped being that when I realized they expected a version of me that I wasn’t. And my- my parents, and my sister, they were almost my family again, but they wanted a version of me that hasn’t existed for over 30 years. They wanted a Randy that… well, he couldn’t exist anymore,” he paused, forcing back how that still hurt- not the time, “Right now the only family I have is you guys- you and Yashee and Sp-Symbol,” he tripped on their teacher’s name, figuring the nickname might break the point he was trying to make, “and that’s because you just let me be me- well,” he closed one eye in half a wince, getting a wet chuckle from his friend, “most of the time, anyways, when I’m not being, well… the me the Nowhere Man made, I guess.”

Raz’ul sniffed and let go of his hands, reaching up to rub at the tears he refused to shed. Randy resisted the urge to stop him, instead looking around and grabbing a spare bandana he had left on the table at some point and handing it over, getting a grateful glance in return from his friend. Randy picked his cards back up while he let Raz’ul decide what he wanted to do next, debating shuffling them some more or placing them on the table. His decision was made for him when the sniffles coming from next to him didn’t die down. He may have the most lacking experience in comforting others but damn if he wasn’t going to try- Raz’ul deserved that much. 

So he pulled his legs up and crossed them, set the cards down, and then patted his thighs, “Take a load off, man,” he said, looking at his friend expectantly. He found that was the easiest way to muscle his way through the discomfort of doing something people didn’t expect from him- make it so they felt they didn’t have time to question it. Raz’ul didn’t even bother giving him a confused look, which might speak to his emotional state more than it did Randy’s strategy, but then he was laying his head in Randy’s lap, staring out at the shared living area while a tear leaked its way out every now and then between sniffles. He let the restlessness in his fingers focus on Raz’ul’s hair, undoing the bun so he could carefully card his fingers through the thick strands, careful not to jostle the flowers woven into thin braids throughout. 

“The way I see it,” he said as he felt his friend’s hand curl into the fabric of his pants, “You’ve got a much bigger heart than I do, and that means you’re willing to give people a lot more chances.” He let a moment of silence go by, giving Raz’ul an opportunity to interject. When he didn’t he continued, fingers still moving through his hair, “And you didn’t know,” this he said quietly, with maybe a hint of heartbreak he didn’t know he had in him, “I can’t imagine how that would feel, because all my betrayals happened in full view.” Raz’ul sniffed again, and he paused carding his fingers through his hair as he turned to look up at him. His eyes were rimmed red and glistening but they didn’t like two dams about to burst, at least. Randy suddenly felt vulnerable, looking into that too-deep gaze and feeling like he had no secrets left he could hide. It was a foreign feeling (and not completely true) and it… it scared him. But he didn’t look away. Raz’ul deserved the effort. 

“So just… don't feel bad about being mad at your family, or wanting to know more about where you came from,” he finished a little lamely, but he was running out of steam and he really didn’t know what else to say. Except Raz’ul just kept looking at him, looking for an answer, maybe, or permission. Randy would give anything to him if he just knew what he was asking for. 

“How am I supposed to handle loving them still when there’s,” Raz’ul started before grimacing, glaring at something only he could see, “there’s this angry bitterness that feels like a poison at the center of it all.”

“I don’t know,” Randy replied honestly, expression sad, “but you don’t have to do it alone.”

Later that night, when it was late enough to feel otherworldly but not so much that dawn was close, Randy woke up groggy and disoriented. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, and he definitely couldn’t remember being squished up against the back of the couch with a blanket draped over him. As he blinked himself more aware in the darkness, he realized that he couldn’t really  _ move _ , per se. It was an embarrassing few moments before his brain was finally firing on enough cylinders to realize it was because Raz’ul was the thing both keeping him immobile and pinning him to the back of the couch. They must have fallen asleep after moving their conversation to more lighthearted things, because that was the last thing he could confidently remember. As it was, he was now laying on a couch in pitch darkness with his best friend’s face buried in his chest, arms wrapped around his waist so tight it was as if he were using Randy as a lifeline. Not that he minded- there were nights when all he could manage was to cling to something and hope he didn’t break, and he was happy to be that for Raz’ul (he had only ever had Jobi, and he wondered what it might have felt like to have a living, breathing person there in those moments instead). 

One of his own arms was pillowing his head, and he knew better than to move it and let it remember that it was probably dying for better circulation. The other arm was curled around Raz’ul, and he found himself carding a hand through his hair as he sat in the darkness, mind not willing to go back to dreaming just yet. The blanket must have been Yashee’s doing, of course, since he doubts Raz’ul would have consciously decided to return to that position. That, and Randy wasn’t a deep enough sleeper to not notice that sort of jostling, even if Raz’ul were careful. He was glad, though; he didn’t want his friend to think he had to pull away when he was obviously hurting, not when he wore his emotions on his sleeve so easily. 

He fell back asleep like that a couple minutes later, lazily brushing his fingers through his friends hair while a lullaby he barely remembered managed to push itself out past his throat quietly, more a hummed whisper than anything else. He didn’t know if he imagined the way Raz’ul sighed and snuggled in closer, but it stuck with him as he returned to a dream knowing he would do anything for him. 


End file.
